Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Dream making

Some people think dreams are the nightly remainders of our daily rubbish, carefully hidden in the folds of our brain cortex. According to this theory, these bits and pieces would be released during our sleep, as if our brain could throw up every night what needs to be deleted from our lives -just as a normal mental hygiene process- in exercise of the authority derived from being the major organ in the human body.

For some others, dreams are only the expressions of our restrained, rejected and suppressed hopes, wishes or fears, acted out by our brain; what we don’t dare saying or doing when we’re awake; our most secret and ignored self.

I personally prefer to avoid Gestalt therapists, Freudian theories and cheap interpretations of what happens during the natural state of bodily rest.

To me, life is but a dream and people are the dream makers. We create illusions. Some are brief, like the flash of a shooting star. Some others could last a lifetime. But regardless of its duration, a dream always becomes a world inside the real world, in the most typical Shakespearian fashion:

“We are such stuff

As dreams are made on;

and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep”

["The Tempest"]

Some time ago, I said somewhere in this diary "when I really want something, I go for it with all my might". That’s what I said to Ed when he lost his designer’s leather jacket some days ago. And I’m not talking about lost jackets here, but about perseverance and determination.

He was slack about his wish to recover it, yet he continued to complain and regret. I could understand his annoyance but not his laziness and indolence.

After our silly fight, I received a number of phone calls from him that I never answered and a few text messages that I didn’t even check. But I started setting off.

I surfed the net looking for Krook McKooky shop’s phone number, just as Dorian -my new neighbour- had recommended me to do. And I surprised myself playing one of the funniest roles that my sick mind had ever invented.

- Good morning. –said the shop assistant who answered my call-
- Good morning. I wonder if you would be kind enough to help me with a garment I’m looking for. My boyfriend bought a leather jacket at your shop some two years ago, but he lost it somewhere. He really loved it and I was wondering whether you still have it or not.
- I’m afraid we don’t. We’re only selling this year’s collection. But you may find it in the outlet shop, in the suburbs.

I thanked her and repeated the same procedure with the outlet shop, introducing some minor ornamental changes in my story, just for fun.

- My husband bought a very nice leather jacket at your shop two years ago, but he lost it in a trip. He loved it that much that I’d like to get him a new one for his birthday. I phoned the shop downtown but they said they only have this year’s collection, and I wonder if you’re still selling that jacket. -I said-
- Do you remember the name of the model? –asked the shop assistant-
- Oops, you name your jackets? –I asked back, surprised-
- Yes madam, all our designs have a name and a different colour label.

Jackets with names. I found it most peculiar.

- Erhm… to be honest, I don’t remember… -I stammered-
- Perhaps you remember what the colour of the label was? –asked the helpful girl- Orange? Green? Black?
- Eeeh… I’m afraid not. Oh, but I have a picture!

I had two snapshots of Ed wearing the leather jacket. If I managed to Photoshop them and blurr his face, I could show them at the shop.

- I think the best you can do is to come over to the shop with the picture. We’ll help you find it in the coat racks or catalogues from previous years. And if we don’t have it here, you can always order it from Krook McKooky’s shops in Southern Orsinia. –said the shopping assistant-

It sounded very promising. That same Friday afternoon I drove to the suburbs and visited the mall to do some retail shopping and then check if they had that wonderful leather jacket.

Have I already said that I simply adore to shop for clothing? Soon I found myself walking fast along the mall’s main street, carrying a hundred bags, when I found Krook McKooky’s shop on my way. Things looked like they were going right.

I rushed in and looked over all the clothes at the hangers. And you won’t believe it, but that wonderful black leather jacket was there, hanging from a coat rack. And it was calling me.

- Can I help you, please? –asked one of the shop assistants-
- Yes! I want that black leather jacket! –I screamed in excitement, pointing energetically-

I bet she never saw anyone more excited about a leather jacket than me in her whole life. I even rushed to get it.

But there was someone else there who was also interested: a guy who took it and tried it on just a second before I could get there. I almost had a fit when I saw him do that. But I quietly rushed beside him and used my most persuasive diplomacy.

- I know this is none of my business, but if I were you, I would try those brown jackets over there. They’re cheaper, same make and better quality –I said, pointing at them-

He looked at me as if I was crazy.

- That’s right, this is none of your business –he said-
- By the way… have you already noticed this black jacket is awfully expensive? –I asked-
- Yes. –he sighed, annoyed-
- I don’t think it’s your size, anyway. You’re too big.
- It is my size. I’ve just tried it on.–he smirked-
- They may have killed wild animals to make it –I said-
- Probably. But I don’t give a rat’s ass.
- And they could have even employed underpaid oompa loompas to manufacture it! –I said, shaking my head in disapproval-

The shop assistant looked at me with eyes wide like saucers but didn’t dare say anything. The guy laughed.

- What’s your name, please? –he asked-
- Leni.
- Ok Leni, if you were not that funny, I would have been quite rude to you. You can have the jacket. But please, tell me before I die from curiosity: Why on earth do you want it so badly?
- Give it to me and I’ll tell you why! –I said, holding out my hand to him-

He handed me the jacket.

- Shoot. –he said-
- The guy I like loves this jacket.-I whispered-
- Let me rephrase: the guy you love likes this jacket.Lucky man, I wish my girlfriend was so unwearying!

When we finished the conversation, I ran to the cash desk, paid for the jacket with my credit card and asked to have the jacket wrapped in the finest tisue paper; tied with the loveliest ribbons; kept in the most stylish bag they had.

When I left the shop, I smiled and breathed deep. I was happier than a coondog on a bare leg.

I drove back to my place with the leather jacket in the car trunk, feeling self assured: Ed would just love it. I rang on Dorian’s door to give him the news.

- Hey, I got the jacket! –I yelled, jumping for joy-
- Jeez that’s cool, Leni. Congrats!
- Thanks for your help.
- My pleasure. –he smiled-. I hope Ed likes it.
- How do you know about Ed?
- Everybody knows about you and Ed in Sandwich. People like gossiping and petty intrigues here. I love to have a famous neighbour.

What a small island! I never wanted to be famous. I rushed to my flat. I couldn’t wait to phone him.

- Hey Ed. –I said-
- Hello, babe. How was your day?
- Great. I bet you’ll never guess what I did today.- Tell me, I’m all ears. - I went shopping for clothes.
- Cool. Did you buy yourself some nice stuff?- Oh, yes. But next to the shop where I bought myself a wonderful dress… was Krook McKooky’s. They had nice clothes for women, so I had a look. And when I was walking to the exit gate, I saw something you like. Guess what it was.
- You tell me.
- Comeon, Ed. Just a little effort. I know you can do that.

He kept quiet for a while and said:

- I don’t dare say it.
- Just try.
- …- Please, try. –I laughed-

- You found my old jacket???
- Yes.
- Then it would be worth to buy it.
- No.
- Why not?- Because I bought the last one.- Really?- You like it a lot, right?
- Yes, true.
- Then… if you want it, you’ll have to come to my place to collect it.

- That would be lovely. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
- I would recommend not to drive your black Bentley. Least of all with your Transilvanian driver. That would be a bit ostentatious and I live in a plain middle class neighbourhood.

He laughed.

- I only use my Bentley when I want to impress women, but I also have a small Lexus. –he said-
- Excellent. A little posh for my taste, but it will do. Anyway, try to go unnoticed, ok? Don't scare my neighbours; don’t try to impress women on your way; don’t drive at top speed; and don’t skid in front of my building or argue with other drivers, please. I hate that.
- Leni.
- Ed.- You’re an angel. You’re making a dream come true.
- Me an angel? –I laughed- I can be a pain of the grandest kind, Ed. You had a dream. I just had a plan.

- I’m not talking about the jacket, Leni.

I knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

Oh, by the way, two final silly details that were missing: the jacket label was orange and its name was Hades, like the Greek god of the underworld. Unbelievable, isn’t it?

wow! very impressive... so very nice of you... and your man has ecellent taste. i used to wear the same coat as well... now i have several less flashy/motorcycley styled leathers... (no longer own a street bike, i do have a dirt bike though)

To paint a bird's portrait First of all, paint a cage with an opened little door then paint something attractive something simple something beautiful something of benefit for the bird Put the picture on a tree in a garden in a wood or in a foresthide yourself behind the tree silent immovable...

Sometimes the bird arrives quickly but sometimes it takes years Don't be discouraged wait wait for years if necessarythe rapidity or the slowness of the arrival doesn't have any relationship with the result of the picture

When the bird comes if it comes keep the deepest silence wait until the bird enters the cage and when entered inClose the door softly with the brush then remove one by the one all the bars care not to touch any feather of the bird

Then draw the portrait of the tree choosing the most beautiful branch for the bird paint also the green foliage and the coolness of the beasts of the grass in the summer's heatand then, wait that the bird starts singing

If the bird doesn't sing it's a bad sign it means that the picture is wrong but if it sings it's a good sign it means that you can sign

so you tear with sweetness a feather from the bird and write your name in a corner of the painting.

Thanks for this beautiful poem of Jacques Prévert (and for translating it on my behalf): I really loved it. It’s so tender and sweet! And a very beautiful dream!When I was a kid, I learned some of his poems at school and I still remember them.

((My secret: When I’m asleep, I dream; but when I’m awake, I daydream of all the birds that sing)).

your new story made me smile. It is so cute how you guess the deepest wishes of Ed. You say you have a plan and it obviously works: he melts like wax in your hands.You now this !You painted Hades black It is the old but also something new. May be this was the key to the heart.KissesAntoni